Magic Captive: A Supernatural Academy Romance (The Velkin Royal Academy Series Book 2)

by Emmeline Winter

  “Speaking of love…” I began, trailing off. “Tormin?”

  “Tormin and I are trying to save our homes. That’s our focus right now, not anything else.”

  I knew there was more to that story. There was always more to the story when it came to Tormin and Krya.

  “But—”

  “Carolyn. Love is never going to be easy for Tormin and I, just like it isn’t easy for you and Anatole. Please. Be good enough to be gentle with my feelings as I try to be gentle with yours.”

  It was a fair request, but one I didn’t know that I was completely amenable to granting. Kyra deserved someone to talk to, some shoulder to cry on or to vent her frustrations to. If we were all hurtling towards our doom, then it only made sense that we were honest with each other.

  “With all due respect, Kyra…You did drag me back here because of my love for Anatole, and that hasn’t exactly gone well for me, you know.”

  “Yeah. I know. And this probably isn’t going to go very well for me, either. So…let’s just agree to take things one step at a time, shall we?”

  Before I could answer her, though, a powerful clanging filled the square. From somewhere deep inside the tree temple that served as the crowning jewel of this village square, a bell was ringing, drawing us all closer to it.

  When we stepped close enough, the wood-carved doors opened as if by magic. I tightened my grip on Kyra. The temple was calling to us, demanding that we follow inside.

  “Good luck in there,” I muttered.

  But Kyra straightened to her full height. Still not very tall, but very, very regal and defiant all the same.

  “I don’t need luck. I have friends.”

  Chapter Eight

  Anatole

  When the doors to the great Tree Temple opened wide, I’d expected that we would all be welcomed inside. That we would be vetted and interrogated by our new protectors. Instead, a moment after the doors opened and we all stepped forward to accept our fate, a small man in long, braided beards, silvery, moonlight wings, and intricately patterned armor stepped out, an axe slung over his shoulders.

  I’d never met this man before, but I knew his face from the many, many briefing documents I’d been given on him, and from the legends that were whispered through Velkin about him. This was Karik The Eviscerator, the warrior-chieftain of the Pixies. Kyra’s father.

  As a future King, I knew it was unbecoming to allow myself to feel even the slightest twinges of fear and doubt. I needed to take heart, to have great courage in the face of adversity, otherwise, how could I ask those who followed me to do the same?

  Karik surveyed the crowd of refugee humans and Velkin alike for a long, silent moment, before letting his unflinching gaze settle upon me. “I will see and speak to my daughter alone. Please be good enough to wait here beneath the stars. We will ensure that you have food and drink while you wait.”

  And just like that, Kyra was gone, joining him within the Tree Temple, and several attendants appeared from various houses around the square, carrying hammered cauldrons of stew and weighty jugs filled with whine. Eagerly, the group I’d led from Castle Bloc gathered around the fire in the center of the square and the stone benches surrounding it, huddling together for warmth and comfort as they accepted the food and drink offered to them.

  But I lingered near the Tree Temple, where Carolyn waited at the steps for her friend. When she heard the sound of my boots crunching towards her, she spoke without turning to me or taking her eyes off of the door through which Kyra had just disappeared.

  “Everyone feels like they’re at the foot of the grave,” Carolyn muttered.

  “We pretty much are,” I replied, hating to alarm her, but unable to lie either. “The Velkin haven’t always been kind to the pixies. Just because we’re in and just because Krya protected us with her life doesn’t mean that they’re going to let us stay here very long. Or that we’re going to be allowed to leave here in one peace.”

  “Ah,” Carolyn said. “I see. So, we’re going to die tonight, probably.”

  “Only if the Pixies decide to treat us the way that they’ve been treated for thousands of years.”

  Somewhere back near the fire in the center of the square, a Pixie musician had settled in and started playing an unfamiliar ballad, sad and slow and bittersweet. A song about love and loss, the kind of song that made everyone who heard it feel too deeply. As Carolyn moved to sit on the stone steps, I followed her, focusing on her so as not to think too much about the song.

  “What do you mean? Your parents are good rulers,” she said. “Just and kind.”

  “But the prejudices of our people run deep. That’s why my parents began the pilot program between the Velkin Royal Academy and the Pixies, to open up communication between our peoples and build more bridges.”

  That hadn’t exactly gone to plan, of course. The fact that Kyra was the only Pixie the Royal Velkin Academy had ever accepted was proof enough of that.

  “But…?” Carolyn prompted after a moment of my silence.

  “But Kyra was the only one who’d taken them up on the offer in over three hundred years. They’re skeptical of our attempts to bury the hatchet, so to speak, and I don’t blame them.”

  How could I? We’d driven them to this small patch of secret, hidden ground and allowed our people to claim superiority over them. If the roles were reversed, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to walk through their halls and dine at their tables and risk the ire and hatred of every one of them.

  “So, instead of burying the hatchet, they’re going to stick us with it, is that right?”

  “Possibly.”

  A comforting lie would have done well there, but again, I found it impossible to muster. I’d already lied to Carolyn once, resulting in both of our heart breaks. I could not be responsible for such pain again, even if it meant admitting to a brutal, violent truth.

  “Well,” she said, kicking her legs out in front of her and turning her chin up towards the sky. “Dying out here under the stars is better than dying at your brother’s hands. At least it’s beautiful here.”

  And she was beautiful, too. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Even after all we’d endured, here, cast in the glow of the fire, she radiated that singular, human goodness. It shone out through her face, giving her a golden sheen. Beautiful was practically an insult to how transcendent she looked.

  I was suddenly struck with a need. As the music from the player near the fire shifted to something a little more romantic, I moved slightly closer to Carolyn.

  “May I ask you something? Knowing very well that I don’t have any right to ask anything of you at all.”

  “Sure.”

  I looked down at my hands, a small show of deference, one I normally wouldn’t be comfortable making. But Carolyn had a way of pulling out the stranger parts of my personality, of calling me to do things I normally would reject. Like admitting fear and weakness. “If we are going to die here together this evening, beneath this lights of these stars and this moon, do you think I could dance with you one last time?”

  She didn’t look up at me. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly on her boots. The only sign that she’d been caught off guard by my question was the slight parting of her soft, pink lips.

  “Why would you want that?”

  “Because I love you. And I would like the last moments of my life to be happy ones, if it’s all the same to you.”

  For a moment, she scanned the horizon, as if looking for predators. Even if there had been someone to stop us right now, I wouldn’t have let them. Death was waiting in the shadows. If I was going out to meet it, I would have this one dance first.

  “I’m—”

  “We aren’t in the palace anymore. I can be honest about my feelings without fear.”

  I rose to my feet and offered her my hand. She did not take it. Not right away.

  “But what about the darkness in your magic? That infection that’s eating away at you. That links the two of you, do
esn’t it? Won’t he know or something—”

  “Carolyn. I have felt like a monster from the moment my brother came back. Being with you is the only thing that makes me feel human once again. Please. May I have this dance?”

  Indecision wrote itself across her lovely features, but soon, she slipped her small, fragile, human hand in mine and allowed me to pull her into my arms, where I cradled her as we began to sway back and forth in time to the music. My heart didn’t get the message of the slow, meandering tune, and chose instead to tap out a hectic, chaotic rhythm at the feeling of Carolyn’s closeness.

  It felt so right, holding her in my arms. Knowing that she was safe and secure and so very near. How could I have ever thought to lose her? How did I ever find the strength to send her away when all I wanted to do was hold her like this?

  When a chilled wind blew through the square, Carolyn tucked herself even closer into me. I certainly didn’t mind. Human bodies were so fragile, weren’t they? If she needed my closeness for warmth, I would be happy to provide.

  “I don’t know how to dance to this song,” she said, whispering against my collarbone.

  “I don’t either. Pixie music.”

  “But it’s beautiful.”

  “Yes. But it’s not as beautiful as you are.”

  Again, we lapsed into silence. Not an uncomfortable one. A perfect one. The kind of silence that could only come in the lull of a perfect moment, a moment that required no words. We swayed there to the music, trying to hold onto something that was already slipping out of our fingers. Even the most beautiful sunset, the most gentle snowdrift, the most emotional songs…they all had to end sometime.

  The particular song we’d been dancing to came to a close, and turned into some bawdy tune about a pixie lady with one wing—a truly humorous tune, if the laughter of my fellow Velkin was any indication—but Carolyn and I stayed locked in our embrace, neither wishing to be the first to release the other.

  “I don’t want this moment to end.”

  “Neither do I.”

  All around us, the Velkin and the Pixies were slowly coming together in a revel, the first sign that, perhaps, things were not quite as dire as they seemed. But even if we survived the night here in the Pixie forest, at some time, we would have to face the horrors of battling against Adric. We could not remain happily tucked away here forever, no matter how much either of us wished it.

  “But it has to end, doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice breaking a little at the end.

  I waited a moment before I’d composed myself enough to ensure the same thing didn’t happen to me when I spoke. I needed to be strong for her. Needed to be strong for everyone.

  “I’m afraid so, my darling. Our worlds need saving.”

  “And we may or may not have a date with the executioner before that,” Carolyn muttered, a gallows laugh upon her lips.

  I knew that she was joking in that distinctly human way of hers, but I couldn’t let the moment slip past me without saying something.

  “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  “You say that as though I’d ever let them hurt you.”

  Squeezing her tighter, I allowed myself to enjoy this moment of levity.

  “Impossible human.”

  “Infuriating prince.”

  Finally, we separated, but I slipped my hand into hers to make up for the loss of contact. Making our way over to the fires, we took the bowls of hearty stew and crusty bread when they were offered to us, and ate as the conversations and the music reached their peak. It was a brief, relishing moment of peace, one I didn’t take for granted.

  Especially not later, when Karik the Eviscerator reappeared from within the depths of the Tree Temple, their highest temple, and approached us with a stern, heavy expression.

  “Prince Anatole. Prince Tormin.”

  We both scrambled to our feet, trying to look as dignified as we possibly could. “Yes? Uh, yes, sir?”

  I wasn’t entirely sure what one was supposed to call a Pixie Chieftan. As the future king of Velkin, I wasn’t meant to bow to anyone, but it felt wrong to put on airs in front of a leader who’d protected his people for thousands of years.

  The Chieftan’s long whiskers turned down as his frown deepened, but all the same, he stepped aside to reveal a familiar, feminine shadow standing in the doorway to the High Temple where he and Kyra had just been speaking. But the figure didn’t belong to Kyra. It belonged to someone whose perfume carried on the evening wind, someone whose very presence made me believe, for the first time, that everything was going to be alright.

  Maybe I wouldn’t die tonight, protecting Carolyn from those my people had wronged for centuries. Maybe I wouldn’t lose the battle for the soul and survival of their worlds.

  My mother was there, standing in the doorway. Not a projection. Not a limp, flimsy depiction of her drawn in light and magic. No, she was really here. This was where she’d come when she and father had fled the castle and fled the rest of Velkin.

  She was alright.

  Of course, she looked rather worse for wear. Exhaustion slumped her shoulders and painted dark circles beneath her eyes, but I didn’t care. She was alive and well and that was all that mattered.

  Karik nodded, solemnly. “There is someone here who wishes to see you.”

  “Mother.”

  Tormin and I both practically ran to her side, offering the cursory, customary bows before throwing ourselves into her arms. She accepted our embraces warmly, but weakly, as if she didn’t even have the strength to hold us like she used to. And when she pulled away, her eyes were wary. Severe.

  “My sons. You and I have much to discuss. Come along.”

  As soon as my mother turned her back and began moving into the High Temple, I began to follow. But when we didn’t hear the crunching of boots behind them, Queen Freia turned, shot a witheringly maternal glance at Carolyn, and waved her along.

  “You too, Miss Conners. You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did I?”

  Chapter Nine

  Carolyn

  I’d never seen anything—not in my entire life—quite like the High Temple of the Pixies. Sure, I hadn’t exactly gotten the opportunity to do a lot of traveling back in my time on Earth, but I’d read enough books about the marvels of the human world and I’d seen enough of Velkin to know that there was nothing like this in the human or magical world.

  The entire building was carved into the center of a great, mountain-sized tree, and inside, the twisted, tortured shapes of spirits and geometric carvings gave the entire space an otherworldly, reverent look. The tree had grown since the carvings had been made, drawing out and misshaping the creations until they were more impressions than actual images. They served as a reminder that the nature was here long before us, and the nature would be here after us. Perhaps that wasn’t a big deal of a revelation for immortal beings, but for me, it was a wakeup call.

  I could die at any minute. Trying to save two worlds that didn’t give a damn about me. Was that a risk I was willing to take?

  When I glanced at Anatole as he bowed before his mother—still the rightful Queen of Velkin in his eyes—my resolved hardened in my heart. Yes, I was going to fight alongside this man and these people. I was going to help them save the world. No matter what it took.

  After all, if the Queen could survive a coup by her second son and survive here, in the Pixie Forest, then surely I could take up arms and fight for the people, too.

  “Your Majesty,” Anatole said. I repeated the utterance as I gave my best, deepest curtsy.

  It wasn’t my best effort, but it seemed that Queen Freia had bigger fish to fry. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries or polite conversation. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised one devastating eyebrow in mine and Anatole’s direction.

  “Well. The two of you certainly have a knack for getting into trouble, don’t you?”

  “Were we not supposed to break out of the Castle Bloc, mother?” Anatole aske
d.

  I hadn’t even thought of that. It hadn’t occurred to me until this moment that perhaps we’d done the wrong thing, that perhaps we’d messed with the visions of the future that the Queen had been having.

  “You were not supposed to do any of this. All of my children have absolutely lost their senses. The future is a scramble of opportunities and terrors. All of you have ruined just about every opportunity to save the world at just about every turn.”

  Her stern expression softened slightly. She held out her arms.

  “And if you do not come and give your mother another hug, I swear to all of the Fates and all of the Gods and all of the Ancestors of this High Temple that I am not going to be held responsible for what I do, do you understand?”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  With that, they both ran into their mother’s arms once again, holding her tightly. Part of me desperately wanted to join them, to feel what it was like to be wrapped in a mother’s love, but I restrained myself. I didn’t want to intrude on their moment, especially at a time like this, when they’d just been reunited after so much time apart.

  “How are you boys?” Queen Freia asked, as she stepped away from the hug and inspected her two remaining children. Her eyes were hooded with maternal concern. “Are you eating well? Sleeping?”

  “I think we should be asking you that, mother.”

  She did look worse for wear. Tired. Run-down. Anxious. Sure, she put on a brave face as she always did. She was the Queen, after all, and a Queen wasn’t exactly going to let everyone know how distraught she was. But anyone who knew her well could easily see that she wasn’t herself, that everything was a little bit broken inside of her. She waved a hand dismissively.

  “Oh, you know I’m not sleeping. I never sleep.”